


Glory, Glory, Hallelujah

by Geist



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Butt Plugs, Condoms, Dildos, F/M, Glory Hole, Horniness, Lube, Masturbation, Orgasm, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3284198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane's a monogamist at heart, but a slut in desire. How does she reconcile the two? With a great deal of anonymous buttsex down at the ol' glory hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glory, Glory, Hallelujah

Problem: Jane was frustrated. She was horny, pent-up, raring to go. Every night saw her sprawled across her bed: hands on her tits, a vibrator on her clit, the biggest, pussy-wreckingest dildos she could find stuffed inside herself. Each steamy session of onanism left her sweaty and wrung out, superficially satisfied but always with that tingle at the back of her loins. And always it grew back while she slept, forcing her to frig herself in the shower every morning, only for it to be back by the evening. The cycle continued. She needed, she knew, a man. She needed a good fucking.

Complication: She was a romantic. Jane had a very specific vision of her first time. There would be music. There would be flowers. There would be a bottle of champagne or suitable sparkling wine substitute costing not less than forty dollars. When she fantasised about it, she could feel that first cock to ever slip between her labia, blood-hot and pulsing with her lover’s desire. The guy who took her cherry (at least, the one belonging to her vagina) would be someone special.

Solution: Anal. The solution after much pondering, doubt, self-recrimination and rationalisation, at any rate. Jane liked anal. She’d poked enough of her toys up her butt to realise she was unusually sensitive there, and after a bit of training, moving from a slender little dildo to anal beads to a thick, vibrating buttplug, she’d discovered how to come from it. However, butt sex was still sex, far too intimate if it was one on one. The solution needed a corollary.

Which was why one night, Jane took herself down to one of the seedier parts of town, to a public toilet where the cubicles had suspicious holes in their chipboard walls. If she was going to get nasty, she reasoned, she was going to go all the way. And really, the glory hole was the perfect compromise between intimacy and anonymity. Prince Charming was hardly going to be on the other side, but with just a cock to deal with, she could pretend it belonged to whoever she chose.

She brought her dildo with her, plus a good-sized bottle of lube and a roll of condoms. Once there, among the chipped tiles, stained porcelain and ammonia stink - not cleaning fluid ammonia, either - she undressed, resting her clothes and tool on the toilet cistern. She lubed up her arse, fingers first, then used the dildo to smear a generous blob of it along the walls of her rectum. She toyed with herself in anticipation, revving up her libido with calculated thrusts of her dong and frequent, furtive rubs at her pussy and fat, heavy breasts.

Her first cock arrived just a little past eight. Someone stomped into the toilet, kicked open the door of the stall next to her and took a long, noisy piss. Jane waited with bated breath, her eyes fixed on the duct-tape reinforced hole in the siding. And then, like a curious animal poking its nose from a burrow, the head of her new neighbour’s prick emerged, followed by the rest of his shaft. He was flaccid, but she knew how to deal with that, even if she had never done it before. It was just like a new toy, fascinating and arousing, but still private and impersonal. Just what she wanted. Out came a condom, on it went; she stroked the flabby latex-encased flesh a couple of time and then dropped to her knees. She took her prize into her mouth and sucked, rolling her tongue round and around, over and over, slurping at it until it was thick and fulsome.

Jane heard her hidden partner moan, and decided it was time to give him what he wanted and what she craved. She turned around, backed up and, with her hands on her buttocks, spreading them wide, she press her tight ring against the tip of his dick. She pushed back, groaning, the hot, red tingle she knew and loved starting as she stretched around his cockhead. Slipping over his ridge, she paused for a moment to take a gasp of air, her heart thrumming, her pussy throbbing. She couldn't believe she had a man's cock in her. She couldn't believe how good it felt: warm and vital, nothing like her fingers or her toys. 

She kept on inching back, taking his shaft deep into her. After what seemed like hours, Jane fetched up against the cubicle wall, her arse flattened against the smooth board. Her unknown man's cock was lodged firmly inside her, hard, hot, twitching against her walls. She gasped when he pulled back, and yelped when he shoved his length back into her, with a suddenness that she was quite unprepared for. His thrust shook the entire cubicle. She braced herself against the opposite wall, bit down on her lip and waited for the next one. 

It wasn't long in coming. Her man built a quick, steady rhythm, pounding her butt with such furious intensity that she could imagine his hips slapping against her cheeks, even if all they were doing in reality was vibrating the wall behind her. The friction of his cock gliding in and out filled her with warmth that quickly became a delicious burn. She hung her head down, panting, and let her hand play across her pendulous tits while she revelled in her own sluttiness. What if he came in here, she wondered, what if she let him take her the way she really wanted it, surrendering her virginity to a stranger in a filthy toilet stall? Her stomach clenched, a thrill ran through her. 

But the stranger was satisfied with the hole he had, and soon, too soon, he came. Jane felt his cock pulse inside her, heard him grunting and moaning. She whined, desperate for more, and slid her hand between her legs. Good heavens, she hadn't even realised how wet she was. Her pussy was drooling, her labia engorged and parted, dripping streams of natural lube down her legs and onto the cracked tiles below. She dipped her fingers into herself, just briefly, fearing that it'd be cheating otherwise. They came away coated in a glossy sheen, and she raised them to her mouth and tasted herself. 

The man pulled out, slowly and carefully, and a moment later he pushed a tied condom full of his milky seed beneath the cubicle wall. He opened the door, and the moment he did, Jane heard his replacement step in. He didn't even want to use the facilities; he just went straight for the hole. Jane yelped as he shoved a rough finger inside her. She pulled away, waited for him to present his cock and when he did, rolled on the condom. The precautions over, she speared herself on his prick and sunk back into her debauchery.

This time, still buoyed up from the pleasure from her previous pounding, she came before her partner. Quaking, her bottom banging against the wall as she rocked back and forth, she uttered a series of little sobbing squeaks, the full-throated scream she wanted to let out battling with her need for discretion. Her arse rippled around the cock, and when she clutched at her crotch, sliding a pair of fingers into her pussy, she felt it throbbing in time. She rode out the rest of her orgasm with her head low and her breasts swaying beneath her. Braced against the opposite wall, she waited for her oblivious partner to finish. 

He came and went, shoving his spent condom into Jane's cubicle just like the previous guy. Obviously that was some sort of tradition in this particular den of sin, but she scarcely had time to dwell on it. Her next client arrived, the now-familiar routine commenced. On with a fresh condom, on with the lube, into her gaping, hungry arsehole. The heat built, the moans rose in her throat, her wetness rolled down her legs in endless rivulets. This one lasted a long time, and she came twice in quick succession before he finished, ably aided by her fingers pinching and prodding her clitoris. No false modesty for her this time: she screamed like the slut she knew she was, and fell to her knees gasping when he finally pulled out. 

Another cock poked Jane in the back of the head, one very erect and very ready, smearing precum into her hair. She turned around, prepped it, stood, took it. Over and over it went, the rise, the fall, the raw heat building inside her, venting it in her screaming, squirming and squirting. She always had a fresh partner, their pricks arriving in an endless stream, in all shapes and sizes. Some she was bold enough to suck on, others she took between her tits, imagining them sans protection, free to spray salty, glutinous seed down her throat or all over her face. She contented herself with the ever growing pile of rubbery offerings around her feet, instead.

The line of punters outside her cubicle shortened, bit by bit, so good was she at bringing them off, so tight and talented the muscles deep within her rectum were. Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, the last of them shuffled off, leaving Jane alone with her racing, endorphin-soaked thoughts. Her whole body was shaking, her arsehole and genitals buzzing. She rubbed out another climax for herself, just for the sake of it, feeling absolutely filthy in the best possible way. Like she'd waded through a swamp to reach a pot of gold. Her legs were so tired she almost collapsed. 

Jane sat on the toilet while she pulled on her stockings and underwear, feeling her panties soak through the moment they came into contact with her mound. She stood and put on the rest of her clothes, left the condoms where they were (feeling a little guilty about it, at least) and strode out into the night. Still without a lover, still alone, but suddenly a lot less lonely. She'd found herself a damn good substitute.

**Author's Note:**

> More like this at geistygeist.tumblr.com! Thanks to my proofreader for their assistance in teasing this into something readable.


End file.
